People say money can’t buy you happiness. I don’t think that’s true at all. Money can bring happiness, but it can’t buy me the gift I need the most. For me, the greatest gift of all is knowing I am safe. That doesn’t mean an alarm on a house, or a gun in the nightstand, but knowing that the person I am with will protect me at all costs. The type of significant other has a name now, the Morally Grey.
I don’t know how many times I have read that women want a man that is morally grey. Having someone who will burn the world for you is an incredibly comforting notion. However, usually there is a horrible or at the very least an unpleasant reason for them to want to burn the world. Knowing that your man would sacrifice himself for your safety means that your safety has been threatened or taken away from you.
I did not expect my safety to come into question on New Year’s eve this year. In fact, I took every precaution to have a relaxing, safe holiday. Instead of visiting our friends who live a drive and a half away, we stayed close to home. We planned on being back at our place by the time the youngest was ready for bed. And without one minor moment, that all happened.
My daughter and I went to mass on Sunday morning. The message for that mass was to remind us we aren’t alone. I absolutely needed to hear it. My hormones were going crazy, making my lingering postpartum depression rearing its ugly head. I was feeling alone while surrounded by family and friends for the last week. At the end of mass, they were releasing white doves. Well, white pigeons, the priest confessed, sending the congregations into a bit of laughter. After a prayer asking for peace in the new year, the four white birds flew overhead. Adelyn told me she whispered to them to say hello to Zoey, our dog we lost a few days before Christmas.
We made it home, and the tiniest was napping. That made getting ready to leave far easier than having to chase down Godzooky as he terrorized the house. We were heading to our friend J.S’s house to watch the Dolphins vs. Ravens game while the kids ran around outside enjoying the cool weather. Everything was great. We had endless mimosas and steak to eat. Adelyn hit the wiffle ball a bunch of without a tee and none of the kids tried to murder each other. My husband, Tyler, and I even had a moment of peace when B laid down for his second nap of the day. It didn’t matter that the Dolphins lost to the Ravens; it was a great day. That was until someone I haven’t seen in almost a decade showed up.
I don’t know why, one of the kids could have shouted, thrown or hit a ball, but for whatever the reason was I looked over towards the stop sign to my right. With the sun behind them and the figure shadowed, I saw someone on a bike. As he got closer, my heart stopped. He wore a Ravens’ hat and jersey and though his hair had grown out; I knew the person riding towards us. He shouted out something to our friend J.S. about the Ravens winning. I don’t think he noticed me yet, or maybe he did, but all I knew is I was seeing red.
I felt my jaw clench as he rode up next to my husband and I. J.S. approached and greeted the man who almost a decade ago violated my space. As J.S. introduced my Tyler, I could feel the man’s hands on me, forcing me back into the chair. I grabbed for my husband’s hand, but I missed and latched onto his forearm. Tyler’s arm tensed under my touch and before I could say a word, J.S. said my name, and the man said, “I know Alex.”
Hearing my name come out of his mouth made my blood boil. I don’t think I have ever said one word with such hatred before. Icicles could have been knocked off of his name as I squeezed it out of my mouth, remembering the feeling of his darting lizard tongue being shoved into mine. “Shawn.”
I don’t remember when he and J.S. headed off to the garage to grab beers. But my husband never left my side. I could feel his eyes on me, but mine had not left the spot where the man had stood. “That’s him.” I finally said. I didn’t need to say anymore. Tyler understood precisely what I was talking about. He stood next to me as I tried to regroup. Being the safety I needed, knowing I wasn’t alone. I was also scared to move closer to where the sounds of J.S. and the man were laughing about something because I didn’t know what my husband was going to do.
I knew we lived in a smallish town, but I never expected it to be that small. Where the man who assaulted me would show up at my husband’s closest friend’s house. Later, I found out that his son plays travel baseball just one year above my son. And the baseball world is a lot smaller than our town because of my former coworkers, who was present when this man assaulted me. His son plays one year under my son.
We went inside to get B. I could hear the man talking to J.S., but as quickly as the man came in the shadows, he left. A lot of it was a blur. I was trying to keep my wits about me, not have a panic attack in front of the kids. My husband kept me shielded. I don’t know how he kept me stable, but he did sometimes by touch or by mere presence.
When the man left, our friends asked me what was wrong and I don’t think I have ever screamed these words so violently, but I shouted and pointed to where he stood. “That is the fucker who sexually assaulted me.”
J.S. and his wife were in shock. He apologized a million times. He had no idea. It wasn’t his fault, either. It’s not like I went around telling everyone I know what happened. But I did just that. I told them we were at a work convention in Vegas and that our group went out for drinks. While I was sitting in a chair, in front of everyone, he jumped across a table and he shoved me into a chair, bit my neck and forced his tongue into my mouth. When I reported it, everyone lied to cover up what happened because they were promoted or given a raise.
I highly doubt I’ll see that man again. The next day, when we went to J.S.’s house, he said that the man had deleted him from all social media apps and blocked him. He also said he didn’t see him at Publix like he had for the past few months. But it’s funny. It’s not J.S. he needed to block. It’s my husband.
